


Strange Little Family

by TriadicUniverse



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Brief Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Inexplicit references to past abuse and trauma, Post-Game, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Super fluffy like goddamn, non-sexual nudity, some blood is drawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 13:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11487759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriadicUniverse/pseuds/TriadicUniverse
Summary: Prompt: "Pale. Karkat helps his Striders adjust to peaceful living.""Karkat Vantas awoke to a new sun rising and a warm face mashed inelegantly against his throat.  Sweeps ago, he would have jerked away or lashed out violently, expecting the killing blow to come before he was even fully awake.  Today, he didn’t even flinch.  Later, he would vehemently deny the fond smile that crossed his face as he curled his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.  Dave mumbled something in his sleep and shifted in an attempt to get closer, as if he didn’t already have all four limbs tangled up with Karkat’s like a lovesick old Earth koala."





	Strange Little Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liritar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liritar/gifts).



Karkat Vantas awoke to a new sun rising and a warm face mashed inelegantly against his throat.  Sweeps ago, he would have jerked away or lashed out violently, expecting the killing blow to come before he was even fully awake.  Today, he didn’t even flinch.  Later, he would vehemently deny the fond smile that crossed his face as he curled his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.  Dave mumbled something in his sleep and shifted in an attempt to get closer, as if he didn’t already have all four limbs tangled up with Karkat’s like a lovesick old Earth koala.  Boyfriend was such a stupid word; a belief that Karkat had explained at length to most of his acquaintances, but they continued to use it if only because nothing else seemed to fit.  ‘Matesprit’ wasn’t quite right, since they had never managed to settle into just one quadrant, and frankly the idea seemed less and less appealing with each passing day.  ‘Husband’ was not accurate (not yet).  ‘Lover’ made either of them trip over their words and turn some godawful shade of red when spoken aloud.  By process of elimination, ‘boyfriend’ would have to do.

Regardless of what word they used, Karkat knew that just looking at Dave made his chest swell with all sorts of goopy, heart-wrenching feelings.  Pity, adoration, awe, and desperation melted together in his chest and clawed their way up his throat as he watched his human’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.  When Karkat could not take it any longer, he leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of Dave’s head.

“If that ain’t the cutest shit,” came a voice right by Karkat’s ear.  This time, he damn near jumped out of his skin, even though he knew he should have seen this coming.  He could never count on the third occupant of their bed to be asleep at a reasonable time.  A characteristic scowl fixed itself on his face, and he craned his neck around to glare at the cruel destroyer of this sensitive moment.

Dirk Strider stared right back at him with the expression of someone who was trying to be entirely nonchalant and unabashed, but had very little experience actually hiding his emotions while face-to-face with another living creature.  The final effect was kind of douchey, but also strangely vulnerable in a way that made it all but impossible for Karkat to be upset with him. 

 

The first time Karkat saw that expression was the first time he met Dirk.  Riding high off of a miraculous victory, but remembering all-too-clearly the tension with which Dave always spoke of his ecto-bro-ancestor, Karkat went into the conversation fully prepared to give Dirk Strider the tongue-lashing of a lifetime if he sensed even a hint of malice or disdain directed at his beloved human.  Instead, he found himself face-to-face with, well, another Strider; impossibly complicated, too clever for his own good, projecting confidence and frailty all at once to anyone who looked closely.  Like the merciful god he was, Karkat refrained from tearing Dirk a new one, and shook his hand instead.  A glance at Dave told him that he had done something impossibly important, but he didn’t quite know what at the time.

 

“Can Dirk live in our can with us?”  The question seemed to come out of nowhere, in the middle of a strangely quiet cuddle pile, but Karkat guessed that Dave had been turning it over in his mind since they had settled on the new Earth. 

Once again, alarm bells went off in Karkat’s head, saying ‘pay attention, fuckwit, this is important!’  But all he managed to say at first was, “I’m sorry, what?”

Dave didn’t flinch away like he might have two years ago, but he deliberately kept his gaze pointed at the floor.  His shades were pushed up on his forehead, but that didn’t stop him from carefully shielding his expression when he really tried.  “I dunno, he just doesn’t really have anyone else, and I thought it would be nice to have, um, some kind of family.”  His voice dropped steadily as the sentence progressed, as if he thought that speaking quietly would keep people from noticing that he had an opinion that wasn’t cool enough to verbalize.  It was one of many habits that he had yet to unlearn.

Karkat didn’t know Dirk very well, but it didn’t take a genius to notice that he was A: deliberately avoiding any meaningful interaction with his friends and B: the type of person who would tear himself apart if left alone for too long.  Dave had a point, like he always did when he wasn’t being a complete (lovable, silly, unfairly charming) idiot.

“You already have a family,” Karkat said.  The words could have been comforting, but instead they came out confused and louder than necessary; fortunately, this was pretty much what Dave was used to.  “I mean, I’m no ectobiologist (that would be a dumb and stupid thing to be) but isn’t he already your family by virtue of the fact that you wriggled out of his slime—“gross, dude”—shut up, it’s a serious question!  Are the Lalondes going to live in our can, too?”

“Nah, just Dirk.  Pretty sure the Lalondes are having the time of their lives in their respective lesbian cans.  I ain’t about to mess with that setup, what kind of monster do you take me for?”

He might have continued on that rabbit trail, wherever it led, but Karkat mashed his hand against Dave’s face and said, “But?”

Dave took a deep breath, his expression solemn despite having his troll boyfriend’s palm pressed against his cheek and awkwardly squishing his face.  He placed his hand over Karkat’s and finally said, “I have a chance to live with him without every second being part of some hellish, puppet-infested mind game.  And he has a chance to live with me, at all.  I can’t help but think that this is how it was supposed to happen for both of us, but not in a shitty paradoxical destiny way.  I want to give it a try.  Can’t we do that, at least?”

When Dave looked at him like that, his tired eyes full of hope, Karkat could never say no, nor did he want to.

 

A day or two later, Dirk arrived at the Strider-Vantas can, his belongings stuffed into his sylladex and his hands in his pockets.  He hovered awkwardly by the door, as if not quite believing that he was truly welcome, or not sure what to do even if he was.  Still, Karkat remembered how eagerly he had agreed when Dave broached the question (while at the same time trying not to seem too eager, of course).

“I’m trying not to feel like a shitty little urchin y’all are dragging in off the streets,” Dirk said in a tone of voice that, for him, qualified as downright cheerful.  “That Strider boy’s so attention-starved, look at him rooting through the trash for any scraps of affection.  Someone write a heartwarming feature film about this poor garbage child, stat.”

“Do you want a hug?” Dave said cautiously.  It was a sincere question, and Karkat was proud of him for managing it.

Dirk, on the other hand, hesitated for just a beat too long before launching into a tangent that featured about exactly as much phallic imagery as expected and far too many references to horses for Karkat’s taste.  He let that continue for about two more seconds before saying, “It was a yes or no question, asswaffle.  Don’t you dare leave him hanging, or I’ll shove your despicable eyewear so far down your throat you’ll be shitting scalene triangles for weeks.”

To call Dirk’s expression a poker face would be unfairly generous.  Then again, what was Karkat if not unfairly generous to any and all Striders at this point?  Dirk was quiet for another long moment before he quietly said, “I guess I could go for a hug.”

Dave grabbed his (father? Brother?) friend by the wrist and dragged him down onto the couch.  Dirk’s spine was rigid and his shoulders tense, but he did nothing to resist as he was pulled into an embrace so tender both of them damn near melted into each other, neither one wanting to let go. 

Karkat excused himself, guessing they would appreciate some privacy.  When he came back almost an hour later, they hadn’t moved an inch, and were gleefully shit-talking and rapping in hushed tones.  It was as if they had never been apart, as if the timelines had perfectly aligned so that they could be together in this moment, simply enjoying each other’s company.  Karkat didn’t get a chance to feel jealous, because Dave jerked his head, beckoning him over.  He let himself be assimilated into the pile, all the while thinking that if this wasn’t what a human family meant before, maybe this was what it would mean for their brand new world.

 

Family.  As time passed, Karkat was learning more and more about what that meant.  It was bringing another person into the balance he and Dave had fallen into on the meteor.  It was parking one’s ass outside the bathroom door and loudly complaining for an hour while Dirk hogged the shower, only for Dave to calmly open the unlocked door and walk in.  The two Striders exchanged casual greetings while Dirk washed his hair and Dave took a piss, and Karkat witnessed in amazement.  Family was having to bully two humans into crawling into bed at a sensible fucking hour with only marginal success on a day-to-day basis.  Dave could often be lured in with promises of cuddles, and if that didn’t work, he went limp and pliant whenever Karkat picked him up and bodily carried him to bed.  Dirk was a different story; sometimes he could be reasoned with, but some nights he stayed up with attention laser-focused on a project, and he could not be moved.  Part of being a family was recognizing that sometimes it was alright to let him be.

When Dirk offered to carry out a family tradition, it didn’t cross Dave’s mind that he could refuse.  Karkat found the two of them on the roof, swords drawn, stone-still in anticipation.  Dirk seemed strangely relaxed, his attention focused on Dave as if he was a puzzle to solve.  Strategies evolved in his head, impeccably and meticulously calculated as he plotted his path to victory.  Dave, on the other hand, was stone-faced, his posture tense.  As he watched, Karkat realized that it was the first time in years he had seen Dave’s face so completely void of emotion, each of his thoughts concealed behind a practiced mask.

It filled Karkat with foreboding, for a reason that at first he didn’t quite understand.  Then Dirk lunged, and the ring and clash of swords made it difficult to think at all.  The two of them moved so fast he could barely see them, little more than shadows flitting across the rooftop, punctuated by vicious strikes of metal against metal.  When Karkat focused, he could see that Dirk’s movements were flawless and deliberate, honed by years of meticulous study, but Dave… It had been ages since Karkat had seen his boyfriend fight, and he was in awe.  Here under the new sun, Dave looked like a warrior again.  His movements were confident and seemingly effortless, but the force behind his strikes belied his raw strength.  He dismantled Dirk’s careful attacks with deadly expertise.  With each passing second Dirk lost ground, his stance losing certainty as his blows went wide.  Dave pressed into his defenses like an unstoppable wave, stern and untouchable.

At that moment, Karkat remembered that Dave was most withdrawn and stoic when he was upset, and that he had never wanted any of this.  The realization came with a sickening feeling of horror, and too late.  Dave struck with enough force to knock shatter Dirk’s sword and knock him off-balance.  Without thinking, Dave swung again in a wide arc, and the sound of slicing fabric felt impossibly loud to Karkat’s ears.  Dirk’s broken sword clattered to the ground, and blood seeped from a diagonal line across his chest.

Dirk gave no sign that he was in pain, other than a soft, “Fuck.”  Dave, on the other hand, looked like he was the one who had been carved open.  His face went deathly pale, and he clutched his sword until his knuckles were bleached white.  He quaked like a leaf in the wind, and yet his expression did not falter except for the slightest worried crease between his eyebrows.

For a moment, Karkat didn’t know which one to go to first.  He rushed in between them, reaching out uselessly at Dirk.  Blood poured from the wound; Karkat felt panic seize his throat, and he almost had a breakdown as well.  Dirk had just enough presence of mind to say, “God tier.  I’ll heal.”  His voice was shaky, but he was right.  Karkat took a deep breath, swallowing an impotent sob, and turned around to attend to Dave.

He found himself staring down the point of a blade.  His favorite human remained in a fighting stance, not aggressive, but rather paralyzed with fright.  Karkat didn’t doubt that Dave could and would cut him in half if anything startled him.  He placed his hand over Dave’s on the hilt of his sword, and the simple touch was enough that he loosened his grasp.  The sword hit the rooftop with an awful noise; Dave hadn’t flinched once during the strife, but he did now.  His shoulders hunched, his face crumpled, and if not for a gentle, clawed hand in his he would have almost certainly bolted for the stairs.  Karkat was furious with himself for being so enthralled with Dave’s martial prowess, not when this was the price he paid for it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.  “I should have intervened before things got this far.”

Dave choked on an inhale, and if Karkat looked closely he could see red eyes filling with tears behind his shades.  As painful as it was to see, he knew that crying was far better than holding it back.  It meant Dave felt safe, safe enough to be pulled in for a hug.

He was quaking like a leaf in the wind, his face hidden against Karkat’s shoulder.  Karkat took the opportunity to look behind him.  Dirk was sitting down, having removed his shirt to press it over the wound.  He was still pale, but alive, and although Karkat was positive he was downplaying the amount of pain he was in, the shaky thumbs-up he gave was a comfort.

Karkat crooned and chirped, rubbing gentle circles over Dave’s back.  “Dirk’s fine,” he said quietly.  “You god tiers heal fast, and it wasn’t your fault.  I know you thought you were defending yourself.”

Dave, who had been trying to cry quietly, made an ugly sound against his boyfriend’s chest.  He couldn’t speak through his tears, but that was fine; there was no need for him to vocalize all the horrible things he was surely thinking about himself right now, and Karkat was glad to fill the silence with words of encouragement. 

The sun moved overhead as they waited for the worst of Dave’s panic and sorrow to pass.  When he stopped shaking, Karkat cupped his chin in one hand, tilting his head up to look him in the eye.  Although still miserable, his eyes swollen and face covered in splotchy patches of red, Dave pushed his shades up onto his forehead.  He didn’t always wear them nowadays, but he had for this strife.  Karkat mentally kicked himself again; that should have been the first sign that something was wrong.  His attempt at a comforting smile looked more like a grimace, but Dave’s expression softened nonetheless.

Unwilling to extricate himself from the hug, Dave stood up on his tiptoes so that he could peer over Karkat’s shoulder.  Dirk startled to find himself in the spotlight again; his expression was a mess of guilt and ill-concealed pain.  He was on his feet again, however, and his skin was closer to its correct color.  The wound had partially closed, although he kept his blood-soaked shirt pressed over it.

“Hey,” he said cautiously.

“Sup,” Dave said back.  His voice was cold with resignation rather than anger.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Are you?”

Dirk shrugged, holding up the bloody and tattered remains of his shirt.  “I’ll be fine, but this piece of trash won’t.  Y’all wanna get out of the sun?  Seems like Karkat’ll be fine but much longer and the two of us will deadass turn into one giant freckle, or just fuckin’ burn, and unless either one of you are emotionally prepared to slather my naked body in aloe I’d like to do whatever we can to avoid that… particular outcome…”

One could practically see Dirk’s tangent lose steam as guilt and discomfort overtook him, and he trailed off into painful silence, still clutching his bleeding abdomen.  He and Dave avoided looking at each other, and Karkat decided it was time to put an end to this nonsense.  Normally, picking Dave up was just about guaranteed to make him laugh; not so this time, but he offered a weak attempt at a smile.  It was enough.  Karkat slung one human over his shoulder, then rounded on Dirk.  He approached with determination in his eyes and one papping-hand at the ready; Dave giggled halfheartedly next to his ear, and Karkat swore he physically grew stronger just by hearing it.  Dirk didn’t stand a chance.

Karkat descended the stairs with a Strider in each arm.  Both of them were far too tense, but Dirk was clinging to his shoulders, and Dave was no longer hyperventilating.  If that wasn’t a victory, Karkat Vantas didn’t know what was.

The shower was clearly not designed for three people, but Karkat stubbornly dragged all three of them anyway.  He scrubbed blood from Dirk’s torso with a soft cloth and lots of soap, and smacked his hands away when he tried to do so himself.  By the time the blood was washed away, the wound had closed up, little more than a thin red line across the human’s torso.  Dave still averted his gaze, draping himself over Karkat’s back and closing his eyes. 

Even as Dirk tried to let himself be cared for, Karkat could see the metaphorical storm clouds gathering around him, the tension in his shoulders, the guilt written plainly across his face.  It was an ugly side of Dirk’s narcissism, his eagerness to shoulder any blame for anything that went wrong, and Karkat could see him crumple as it weighed him down.  He had kept himself together while Dave was panicking, but now it was his turn to quiver and shake.  There was something about warm water washing over him that made it easier to cry.

“If there was ever a well-deserved beatdown, that sure was one of them,” Dirk said.  His voice trembled, no matter how he tried to keep it steady.  “Talk about paradoxical karma.  “Dave, I ain’t even mad, not when I pretty much asked for it.”

Karkat clamped a hand over his mouth, stopping the flow of self-hate before either Strider could get even more upset.  Emboldened, Dave stared at his (brodad, friend) boyfriend over Karkat’s shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed and face solemn.  “Not true, and not helping, dude,” he said.

Dirk whispered an apology when he was allowed to speak again, or tried to.

Dirk cried like the rest of his body didn’t know he was crying.  His chest heaved and tears spilled down his cheeks, but his face didn’t scrunch up like Karkat’s did, and he didn’t shudder and try to hide like Dave did.  He wept silently, biting his lip to hold back anything other than the occasional whimper.  His hands were limp when Dave reached out to hold them, and he bowed his head when Karkat massaged shampoo into his scalp.  He cried his heart out, and the three of them left the shower smelling like floral shampoo and catharsis.

 

Karkat slept naked, out of old habit.  Dave slept in soft pajamas, for his own comfort.  Dirk slept shirtless, out of deference to the heat.  It meant that when Karkat turned to face him, he could see the new scar crossing diagonally over Dirk’s torso.  He traced the thin, pale line with one claw, making the human shiver from the intimacy and residual discomfort.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Karkat wasn’t having it.

“The next thing out of your face-hole is going to be something nice about yourself, or nothing at all,” he said, quietly so as not to wake up Dave. 

Dirk shut his mouth, but as always, he could not hide the vulnerability or need for validation that shone through in every nuance of his face.  Karkat reached out to cup his cheek, and he leaned into it, drowsy and nervous as he was.  Looking at him, Karkat felt warm and sappy, like his chest was filled with syrup.  

“You made a mistake,” Karkat said.  “So did Dave, he needs to know how to enforce his own boundaries.”  Dirk was definitely going to argue with that, ready to fight to the death to prove that he was solely responsible for anything bad that happened, ever, but what his boyfriend said next shut him up fully.  “Doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you, either of you, you flaming dumpster fire of a human family.”

Dirk was already dumbstruck, but then Karkat went in for the kill.  A tender kiss, placed right on his nose.  Dirk didn’t stand a chance.  “What does that make you?” he said weakly as he was gathered up into his boyfriend’s arms, limp and pliant as a ragdoll.

“I am well aware that I’m part of this dumpster fire,” Karkat said, earning a snort from both Striders.  It should have come as no surprise that Dave was awake, but he was reluctant to move far from the lovely new cuddle pile.

As the new sun passed overhead, Karkat drifted back to sleep, holding his favorite humans tight.  Dave clung to him with all four limbs, face pressed against his chest.  Dirk slept fitfully, unused to being held but loving it nonetheless.  A dumpster fire they may be, but Karkat was glad for the warmth they provided.  As he drifted in and out of consciousness in the universe they had fought and bled for, he hoped that their descendants would have human families as happy and safe as this strange little one.


End file.
